


いいえ

by watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, slightly abusive but its Murphamy so not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai/pseuds/watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy and Bellamy continue to surprise each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To be or not to be?

**Author's Note:**

> Once again dedicated to aiblossom and papabellamy on tumblr, also thanks for the comment on the last Murphamy fic! I hope to write more for this pairing in the future! no smut in this one *sorry* I'm new at this writing this so forgive my suckiness also I have no beta so yeah, autocorrect is in control here.

> _"He hit me and it felt like a kiss." - Lana Del Rey 'Ultraviolence'_

 

* * *

 

  
  
The afternoon sun slants through the blinds, tattooing horizontal shadows across Murphy's skin.

He blinks his eyes open against the assaulting light.

 _To be or not to be?_ _That is the question_.

Murphy leans forward pushing himself up by the elbows. Craning his neck, stretching the taut muscles of his forearms and shoulders, Murphy gives the mess before him barely a passing glance.  
The shattered porcelain in the corner, trashed papers spread against the floor and furniture dragged from their original resting places. Murphy steps over shards of broken vase without any care for his bare feet. The atmosphere is warm, and inclined him to wear nothing but a pair of over-sized boxers that morning. Murphy heads to the stove, working the beginnings of a cheap box of macaroni that he'd forgotten was stashed in his cupboard. It's only on his way back to the couch, a bowl of steaming pasta in his palm, that he thinks about the events that turned his apartment into even more of a shithole than it usually was. They had gotten into a fight. Again. This one a bit bigger than the others but by no means the worst. Murphy could already feel the bruises forming across his skin, some scattered across his cheekbone, his abdomen.

They had a chaotic relationship.

Bellamy sometimes said they were trying to make up for how much they loved each other, by hating each other.

  
And it was hard for other people not to notice just how much they hated each other. If it weren't for the fact that Bellamy ended up with just as many bruises as Murphy, someone would have called domestic abuse on them already. Their friends, moreover, Bellamy's friends, weren't a fan of Murphy, or the way he always seemed to bring out a darker side in Bellamy. Murphy really couldn't find it in him to give a shit.

  
Murphy reclines into the couch, bruises irritated by the coarse material beneath his back. It's then that the man of the hour enters, keys still in the lock as the swings open.  
Bellamy isn't two steps in before he stops.

"Couldn't clean up the mess, I see."

  
Murphy fumes, irritation flushing his neck a pale pink as he tries to hold back his temper.

  
"What am I, your bitch?" Murphy spits back at him. He's about say something crude when he notices the lack of anger in Bellamy's voice. Murphy draws his eyes up to see Bellamy looking less than his usual confident self. His shoulders are slumped with fatigue and his frown seems more disappointed than upset. Murphy hates it.

  
"So did your little walk help you cool off? Or are you back for more?" Murphy sneers at Bellamy, trying to gain a reaction similar to the explosive responses he received that very morning.

  
"Yeah it did." Bellamy replies, not rising to the bait.

  
"Well, it should have, considering it took you seven fucking hours."

  
"I was with Clarke," Bellamy side-steps the hazards across the floor crossing the living room to walk towards the kitchen.  
If Bellamy had read the situation better, he would have noticed the tensing of Murphy's shoulders at the mention of Clarke's name. He continued

"We went downtown and she talked me through some things."

  
It takes Bellamy by surprise when Murphy halts his traverse into the kitchen and slams him into the bookcase lining the adjoining wall.  
Murphy's fists tighten into the material of Bellamy's shirt collar as he forces him backwards, causing a few books to tumble towards to floor.

  
"You were with Clarke. For seven hours." The skin of Murphy's knuckles turn white.

  
"Did you fuck her?" He grits his teeth, voice rising in volume. Bellamy looks unperturbed as he tears Murphy's hands from his shirt, keeping a firm grip on his wrists.

  
"No. God, Murphy, no. I didn't fuck her." Bellamy speaks in a steady voice, glaring directly into Murphy's eyes.  
Murphy tries to tug his wrists away from where Bellamy has them pressed against his own chest.

  
"It's not like I can believe you anyways." The tension in the air thickens as Bellamy slowly loosens his vice grip on Murphy.

  
"You know you can trust me." Bellamy speaks in low neutral tones, not a crack in his deep voice. Murphy wants to punch the placating look off his face.

  
"Fuck off." The words spew out like venom and Murphy rips his arms from Bellamy's. Bellamy grabs the back of Murphy's neck, dragging them into a mishap of a kiss. Teeth crash against an already busted lip but Bellamy doesn't hint at any sense of pain.

  
This time Murphy does punch him, in the jaw. Bellamy is left cradling his sore cheek as Murphy slams the door to his bedroom.  
Bellamy groans in frustration following Murphy's path to the closed bedroom door. He sinks down into a crouch, back and head slouched against the wooden frame.

  
Murphy leans on the other side of door, head cradled between his knees. He takes in shuddering breaths as he tries to calm bus racing pulse. No one in the world can make Murphy feel as much Bellamy does. He angers him to indelible proportions, yet he brings him more comfort than anyone else in his life. Even more than his family ever had.  
The silence trickles by, both boys breathing softly on either side of their wooden barrier.

An unknown amount of time passes before Murphy speaks, barely above a whisper.

  
"It's my birthday today."

  
For the two plus years Bellamy and Murphy had been together, Bellamy had never known his partners birthday. He had tried to find out, of course, but whenever he tried to delve deeper, Murphy would shut him out. Murphy had told him that it just wasn't something he cared to highlight, and Bellamy hade respected that, not wanting to push Murphy too far outside of his comfort zone. Besides, it wasn't as if the event were some grand mandatory ritual, so Bellamy let it slide. Bellamy knew that Murphy's rough history with his family was even worse than his own, and that Murphy's own mother probably made truly Murphy rue the day he was born. Yet, he let it slide. Hearing the trembling in Murphy's voice now, made Bellamy regret giving up so easily.

  
Bellamy tries to remember how the morning's fight had started. Murphy had wanted to go out, had seemed eager to do something with his empty day. Bellamy had been tired from the amount of overtime he had been putting in at work and wanted to sleep in.  
Murphy tried to force Bellamy out of bed and things escalated. There had been alot of yelling, alot of breakable objects and punches being thrown until Bellamy had practically screamed

  
"Fine let's got out! I'm going out for a fucking walk and you can go wherever the hell you want, just not with me!"  
Murphy had thrown a vase in his general direction, ceramic and water cascading to the floor. He had yelled himself hoarse ranting

"Go ahead you jack-ass! Leave! Should've known you were just like everybody else!"  
Bellamy hasn't thought about his words at the time, but knew he had hit a sore spot when he replied

  
"Yeah well you know what Murphy? Maybe everybody else has the right fucking idea!"

  
Bellamy knocks the back of his head against the door, eyes closed in remorse.

  
"Open the door Murphy."

  
"No." Murphy was as stubborn as he was irritable.

  
"Please?" Bellamy tries again, a more pleading tone in his words. A few more moments of silence and then there are sounds of scuffling and movement behind the door. Bellamy stands up in time for it to open. Murphy opens door, shoulder holding his weight up against the frame. His long russet hair hangs over his eyes covering most of face. Bellamy's eyes trail down to Murphy's defined chest, then lower still to his own boxers that were barely hanging onto Murphy's waist.

  
"Let's go out," Bellamy says to Murphy's bowed head.

  
"I know the perfect place."

  
Murphy exhales in resignation.

  
"Fine. But I'm not dressing up."  
  
They don't speak on the drive. The quiet isn't uncomfortable but the bad air from the morning still hadn't left them. Bellamy drives them past the city until only rocks and trees can be seen on either side of the road. They turn off a small dirt path just as the daylight begins to fade. The car slows and halts atop a steep hill and Murphy follows Bellamy's queue as they exit the car. They both sit on the hood, not speaking, head turned towards the mountain forests on the horizon.

  
"I don't even like the woods." Murphy mutters.

  
"Shut up and wait." Is Bellamy's only reply.

  
Here they have a perfect view of the sun setting. Breathing in the crisp fall air through his nose, Murphy can't find the energy in him to be angry anymore. He feels spent, thoroughly used up. At this point Murphy feels stupid for mentioning his birthday, and just wants to call it a day, ice his bruises and curl up in bed with Bellamy.  
The sky floods with burnt orange fading into carmine. The red clouds slowly bleed into the horizon, shading themselves amethyst, deep violet, indigo and finally onyx.

  
When the sun completes it's transition with the moon, Bellamy finally speaks.

  
"Happy birthday."  
Murphy doesn't respond, lips pressed together, still trying to hold onto the passing euphoria that came with the setting sun.

  
"Sorry about this morning, I just wanted to spend the day in bed with you...On my walk I had time to think, about us. And how bad we are for each other." Bellamy let's out a short laugh, sounding almost pained.  
Murphy wonders if this is Bellamy breaking up with him. If so, it's one hell of a place to do it. Walking distance from a cliff if Murphy feels the need to jump off it. Or more accurately, throw someone off it. Bellamy interjects his reverie.

  
"Are you even listening?"  
Murphy shakes his head with indifference.  
Bellamy emits an impatient stream of breath.

  
"Sorry, what did you say?" Murphy doesn't turn his head from the horizon.  
Bellamy gets off the hood of the car and walks to stand in front of Murphy, directly in his line of vision. His gaze is unwavering.

  
"I asked you to marry me, idiot."  
Murphy waits a minute for the punch-line, and when that doesn't come he assumes he heard Bellamy wrong.

  
"What?"  
Bellamy, the fucker, gets down on one knee and shoots Murphy the teeth baring grin that usually makes him weak in the knees.

  
"I bought a ring today, Clarke helped me pick it out. I had alot of time to think about it, and I can't imagine myself getting knocked out by anybody else. Marry me. Murphy."

  
The ring Bellamy holds out rests inside a stout black velvet box. It's plain brandished silver, but the aureate moonlight flashing off of it makes it seem like a fluid, living, metal.  
Murphy stares down at him, the man the blew into his world like a shit-storm and never had the decency to clean up the mess he left behind. He was also the boy who knew how to fend off the demons that came knocking at Murphy's door every night. Bellamy was the knife, but also the salve. And how could you have one without the other? Murphy didn't know how to survive without both.  
But then, was simply surviving any way to live?

  
Murphy stands above him, dragging his answer out like a reluctant child giving up an old toy; a single word.

  
"No."

  
He watches as Bellamy's face blanches, even paler than the moonlight against his back. Bellamy makes to speak but ends up tripping over his words, trying to blink away the shock like there's dust caught in his long lashes.  
Bellamy stands and closes the box, taking a step back.

  
"Take me home, Bellamy."  
Murphy's voice sounds disinterested but he can't hide the strain in his tone as he fumbles at the handle of the car door.

  
"Okay." Bellamy breathes out, voice empty. His eyes looked glazed over but he doesn't drag his gaze away from Murphy. Murphy decides not to look at him and turns towards the window as he slumps into the seat of car.

  
The journey home was quieter than the ride there.

The silence is anything but comfortable.


	2. To be

They pulled up inside the parking lot of Murphy's apartment complex. Murphy moved to exit the car but stopped when he noticed that Bellamy was still.

  
"Aren't you coming in?"

  
Bellamy looked as if he were surprised at the prospect of Murphy speaking. Murphy could barely hear his delayed response.

  
"I think I should go."

  
Murphy gritted his teeth in annoyance.

  
"Just because I said no doesn't mean we're over."

  
Bellamy flinched, Murphy's words a little too loud for the silence of the car.

  
"I know...I just need time to think." Murphy slumped back against the seat.

  
"Please. Besides, I'm pretty sure you left your phone at my place. And it's my birthday..." Murphy wasn't keen on pulling the birthday card but he needed Bellamy here tonight.  
Bellamy stayed silent for so long that Murphy was tempted to make a scene, until he heard the soft

  
"Okay."

  
They don't speak in the elevator, they don't touch.

When they enter the apartment Murphy leaves to the bedroom to grab Bellamy's phone.

Bellamy stands near the bookcase, eyes passing names of novels, completely ignoring the mess sweeping across the floor. His eyes catch on a photo-frame and he removes it from the shelf to look at it closely. It's probably the only frame in the living room with the glass still intact. Inside is a picture of them both, with a few other people outside a group tent. They had met through mutual friends on a camping trip, and had hated each other instantly. Only after a few mishaps and brawls in the middle of shit-nowhere did they start a miserable excuse for friendship that relied mostly on how much they wanted to hurt each other on any particular day. It was years of that very friendship before Murphy let loose enough to allow Bellamy to take him out on a date. And then things just went forward from there.

Bellamy wonders what they were both doing wrong, and how the hell they're supposed to fix something that neither can admit is broken.  
He's still got a tight hold on the frame when Murphy speaks up behind him.

  
"I'm not going to marry you. You are going to marry me."

  
Bellamy jolts for a second, slowly turning his head towards Murphy, his body following suit.  
Murphy grins, tossing a small object in an arc towards Bellamy. Bellamy catches it with one hand. It's a box similar to the one Bellamy had in his coat pocket, only this one is sapphire blue. Bellamy opens it to fine a similar silver band with a strip of black metal running along its centre.

  
"I didn't want to say anything this soon, I needed time to sort my own shit first. But you always were the impatient one." Murphy's grin looks like it could split his face in two if he didn't reel it back in.  
Bellamy, on the other hand, is pissed. Bellamy has to restrain himself from adding another bruise to the fresh one Murphy sports on his cheek.

  
"You dick! You fucking asshole! That's not funny! You made me think...You're such a maniac, I can't even believe this..."

  
"Think of it as payback for this morning. You know I don't let go of grudges easily," Murphy takes the picture frame from Bellamy's tensed hands and places it back on the shelf.

"Careful, you might break that too." Murphy smirks.

  
"You are...crazy. All you need is a gun and you'd be a full-blown heartbreaker." Bellamy blinks, too relieved to hold any anger over the situation.

  
"Yeah, but you love it." Murphy wraps both arms around Bellamy's neck. Bellamy's lips are stifling, almost burning as they find rhythm in one another's breaths. Their mouths meld desperately against each other, almost in parallel with the intense emotions of the entire day. Bellamy pulls away from the kiss, pupils blown, eyes drawn to Murphy's swollen lips.

  
"So is that a yes?" Bellamy whispers against Murphy's mouth.

  
Murphy smirks.

  
"That depends...Do I get a gun?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fic, it's trash, I am also trash, but I think we've established that already. If you want some badly written smut check out my other Murphamy fic 'Trust Excercise' and pls send me prompts/requests because my creativity died with Finn's sanity.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Japanese for 'No.'  
> 


End file.
